
/ 



DISCOURSE 

ON THE DEATH OF 

f 

GEN. JOSEPH K. F. MANSFIELD, 

SOUTH CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, MIDDLETOWN, 
ON SABBATH EVENING, 

September aS, 1863. 
BY 

REV. JOHN L. DUDLEY, 

PASTOR OF THE CHURCH. 



D. BARNES. 

MIDDLETOWN, CONN 

1862. 






(^379 



c^ 



Note. — The following sermon was written as a spontane- 
ous tribute to the memory of a noble man, speaking of him 
as he seemed to the writer. Aside from this, it had no 
purpose. 

Friends of the distinguished and lamented soldier have 
asked that the discourse be printed : it is therefore printed. 



DISCOURSE 



JEREMIAH, 48: 17. 



ALL YE THAT ARE ABOUT HIM, BEMOAN HIM; AND ALL YE THAT KNOW HIS NAME, 
SAY, HOW IS THE STRONG STAFF BROKEN AND THE BEAUTIFUL ROD. 

Death is the common lot of man. All alike are destined 
to fall before this final conqueror, and sleep, side by side, in 
their kindred dust at last. 

And yet in some instances, death may be more instructive 
to the living, than in others. Invested with circumstances 
which give it peculiar significance and importance, its lessons 
are commanding and impressive, and claim the attention of 
men in corresponding degree. When a human life attains 
distinction, whether by its own inherent force or by the shap- 
ings of accident and circumstance, that life by necessity 
becomes broadly related through a thousand points of contact 
with the world, and so multiplied in its significance and power. 
In this respect, the words of sacred writ apply with high and 
special force — none of us liveth unto himself, and no man dieth 
unto himself. Children lament the father — community its 
leading citizen. When a peasant dies, a few wrap him in 



6 DISCOURSE. 

their woe, and lay him in his rural rest ; when a Prince 
departs, an empire mourns ; when a President is laid low, a 
Republic is draped in sorrow ; when a hero falls, destinies that 
hang upon his word and his sword, take up the lament, and a 
nation bears him to the burial. 

The emphasis, therefore, which the demise of any person 
carries, depends upon the number of related cords that thrill 
when this central one is sundered. The magnitude of a sore 
bereavement, and the impressive lessons God would convey 
by it, are as the length of the shadow which it casts over the 
living, and the breadth and the depth of the helplessness which 
sighs over the passing away. 

And yet there is an interior significance which we must 
carefully note — an estimate of the man himself, far above all 
external relations, that gives the real emphasis to any loss the 
world may sustain by death. Personal worth is above official 
station and lends it honor. The living glory of the inner 
kingdom — it is that which sheds lustre upon rank and station, 
and without which all the relations of life, positions of influ- 
ence, however numerous and widely extended, are but as 
sounding brass and hollow pageant. There is much of empty 
circumstance in this world, clothed, perchance, with imperial 
majesty; invested, it may be, with more than regal splendor, 
that is empty as the winds. Princes are sometimes made of 
the poorest stuff, and so called potentates of the chaff of the 
earth. There have been heroes in the world, fame-smitten 
for the hour, in whose death mankind could find no calamity ; 



'=<^ f r 



DISCOURSE, 7 

while many a royal soul has past from the living unheard of, 
suited to make the world's heart a mourner. The man is above 
all station. It is personal worth that fills life and death with 
imperial significance — the divine commission and sceptred 
sway of royalty in the soul, that lifts one into grandeur of life, 
above all fugitive and ephemeral considerations, and that 
embalms his demise in unfeigned lamentations, and enshrines 
his me!nory in the golden tribute of the heart. The glory of 
mind, the lustre of virtue, irradiating all life's hemisphere — 
this is what makes life's sunset the night and the anguish of 
the world, the sublime and instructive emphasis of death ! 
When a good man dies, humanity is poorer : when a rare soul 
passes from this world, it is fit that the living should pause in 
solemn recognition of it, and out of their reverence and esteem, 
carve shrines for his memory to dwell in. 

It is, therefore, in fulfillment of the behests of a beautiful sen- 
timent, that mankind have always honored their worthy and 
illustrious dead. They have celebrated their virtues and deeds, 
in symbol, in poem, in festival, in monuments of granite and 
statues of marble, and iron, and clay. They have flung memo- 
rials upon their tombs, garlands upon their graves, and made 
them records on tablets more enduring than stone or brass. 
The world can not afford to do without the memory of its 
benefactors ; what is dear to the heart once, deserves to be 
dear always. Sepulture is not oblivion. It is in the ordering of 
heaven that the honored and the noble should pass into history. 
The mellow light of her leaves is ever the teacher of the 



Q DISCOURSE. 

world. It is when the earthly veils are dissolved away that 
those we love, the bright, the honored, the cherished, the 
strong, the beautiful, come to us most inly, melt most tenderly, 
into our souls. 

This sentiment we honor to-day. Long and weary months 
ago, the land began to take up the lament : " The beauty of 
Israel is slain in high-places : how are the mighty fallen ! " 
The love of country is called again to a consecrating IJaptism 
of blood and tears — to prove her devotion in the gift of new 
sacrifices, to lead forth her martyrs as the signs of her faith, to 
erect fresh memorials to her patriots and heroes laying down 
their life for Liberty's sake. The land is full of the battle of 
the warrior, and garments rolled in blood. The land is full 
of mourning — the lament is every where for the slain that 
shall return no more. We heard the mviffled murmur thereof 
far away ; heart-wails sounded in the distance, like the dying 
of summer winds, but had not touched us. Anon the swelling 
tide rolled in nearer and nearer, the air grew thick, the war- 
blast louder, till at last the billows broke upon the shores of 
our homes and hearts, and we took up the mighty chorus of 
woe. He who was honored and loved among us, the strong, 
the true, the trusted and the God-fearing, had fallen in a mo- 
ment, in the mortal stress, and all that was earthly of him was 
still in death. 

Then it was that the calamity came near us ; then it was 
that the living, as not before, were initiated into that mighty 



DISCOURSE. 9 

fellowship of woe in which a nation is struggling, and that is 
to lift the life of a great people from the toils of the destroyer, 
ransomed from pollution and shame. 

It is well that we honor this beautiful sentiment. Mans- 
field IS DEAD. It is well that we enshrine in memorial 
phrase names that will ever live as symbols of nobleness, as 
signs of endearment. We mourn to-day fitly, because 
brightness has been hidden : something sacred within us 
says, " All ye that are about him, bemoan him : and all ye 
that know his name say, How is the Strong StaiT broken, and 
the Beautiful Rod." 

Wonderful workmanship, the golden pictures of inspiration 
— fitly do they come to our hearts and lips as we speak of our 
lamented dead. 



There is much in the lives of our public men that can be 
properly said only by those who are intimately acquainted 
with them in their official capacities, and with the nature of 
the duties and responsibilities therein involved. In the field 
and in the cabinet, there is a great deal that does not appear 
to common observation. A thousand times the rarest quali- 
ties can be understood only in their exercise. The military 
capacity, and the ken of the statesman, upon which the 
destinies of a nation turn, may never be understood by the 
people at large. Only the same opportunities that share this 
rare excellence, are competent to speak of it* It must be 



10 DISCOURSE. 

the soldier that tells what the soldier is : the statesman of 
the statesman ; the christian of the christian. Our record 
then at this time of our lamented chieftain, of our Strong 
Staff and Beautiful Rod, shall be as we knew him. 

With us was his home — not his nativity indeed — the 
lionor of that belongs to a neighboring city in the state. 
In early childhood, they tell us, even in infancy, his family 
exchanged New Haven for Middletovvn as a residence, where, 
for the most part, the home-life of the distinguished son has 
been. 

The following record I take, substantially, from notes 
already public. Joseph K. Fenno Mansfield entered the 
West Point Military Academy in October, 1817, not yet 
fourteen years old. At the end of the regular course he 
graduated with honor among the first in his class, and 
entered the regular army. In accordance with army regu- 
lations, by which none but talents of the first order can 
hope for success, he soon entered upon a series of promo- 
tions, which took him on from grade to grade, and from 
rank to rank, rising upon his own merits and winning com- 
mendation, till, at the time of his death, he stood within one 
grade of the topmost honor, and that, public confidence was 
already waiting to award him. Called suddenly by the 
government from duties less perilous, in the army of the 
Potomac, to assume active command in the field, it was on 
that fatal Wednesday, Sept. 17, while early in the day he 



DISCOURSE. 11 

was bravely leading his forces in the battle of Sharpsburg, 
that not only all earthly promotion was ended, but life itself, 
and his honors thenceforth became the lustre of the hero's 
grave. 

I will not detain you here on the bravery of that morning's 
engagement ; the self-forgetfulness and calm valor of soul 
that preceded it, and the hours that followed intervening 
between being borne from the field, and the loosing of the 
silver cord ; how, upon being informed that there was no 
hope for him, he demurred not, saying ; " if it be God's will, 
it is well;" how, with unabated interest he clung to the 
fortunes of the cause for which he was giving his life ; how 
he sent his love to his old friends, the dear ones at home, 
gave directions for the disposition of his body, murmured 
the last prayer which only the waiting in glory could hear, 
and passed to their light as one who falleth asleep. I need 
not dwell upon these last, strongest, most beauteous things, 
for they are all written elsewhere, sacredly written, and 
their sacredness may not be disturbed here. 

Gen. Mansfield had no chances to calculate, no contingen- 
cies to settle, when he took the place of duty. From the 
first, he gave himself to his country, and himself was his life. 
No shrinking from responsibility, no evasion of what was 
justly demanded of him, sullied that early consecration. 
Whatever his country required, that was his law. Whether 
among the miasmatic swamps, or the burning sands, or on 
our wild frontier, with the ground for his bed and the sky 



12 DISCO IJ R S p] . 

for his covering, or in the councils of the Capitol, one thing 
ruled him ; What is right ? What is duty ? That settled, all 
was settled. His convictions were strong, his judgment 
clear, his decisions prompt. He was the slave of no party 
on great questions of public interest ; the echo of no school. 
He had opinions, but they were his own ; and, touching his 
soldierly life, to do the best for his country was their sum. 
This won the confidence of true men ; they sought him and 
confided great trusts to his integrity. Through all the 
campaigns of the late war on our south-western border, no 
brain was more efficient than his. To no judgment and 
military skill did the old Commanding General in that war, 
acknowledge so much indebtedness as to the services of 
Mansfield. Buena Vista, Monterey, and Matamoras, witness 
his valor and military mastery, and their scars he carried to 
his grave. Modest to a fault, almost, he was never ambi- 
tious to be trumpeted. With abilities that acknowledged him 
first, he had no complaints to make if he was reckoned only 
second. Right and equity he perfectly understood. But 
were they ever construed to his disadvantage, he was not 
the one to demur. He could aftbrd to suffer, but not to do, 
wrong. It is sometimes to the country's detriment that the 
true soldier is lost sight of behind more showy veils ; but the 
question to the soldier nevertheless is, — Plow can I serve my 
country in the duty assigned me ? 

This was Mansfield. No man ever lost sight of every tiling 



DISCOURSE. 1-] 

else, ill a more disinterested fidelity than he, whom we name 
but to honor, to-night. 

No man understood more perfectly the origin, the nature, 
the genius, and diabolical character of this execrable onset 
of treason against our government than Gen. Mansfield. 
Prom the first he comprehended it. He knew the men at the 
bottom of it ; he understood their plans, their methods and 
purposes. He knew the animus of that hatred with which 
they are inspired towards institutions he loved, and which 
bless humanity ; and he was among the first in the regular 
army to sound the alarm, and to grasp the only efficient 
method of defeating the foul plot. And had his counsels, 
and the counsels of those like him, been more represented in 
the general shaping of our military policy, the days of our 
calamity might have been materially shortened, and many a 
life still gladdening the earth, that shall sing no more. 

And yet there are counsels that rule us, to which all earthly 
wisdom must bow ; there is a destiny of nations wrapped up 
in no human ken. To this truth no mortal bowed with more 
hearty acceptance than that Christian hero whom we bore to. 
the burial on the bright day. It ruled his life, it sweetened 
his death. 

I think of Gen. Mansfield as a soldier first, perhaps, and yet 
not first. He was a national man — he belonged to the nation. 
In the broad outlines of this setting, he stands before the 
public, and won that distinction, unquestionably, which gives 



14 DISCOURSE. 

him his commanding title to public regard. His record is 
written in the annals of the country for the last thirty years, 
and no officer can point to a more stainless one, in the long 
army roll. Were this the time and occasion upon which to 
bring out the military life of our lamented hero, detail his 
exploits, set forth the skill, sagacity, bravery, — those 
peculiar qualities which lie at the foundation of success in 
the perilous profession of arms ; and above all, could we 
bring before you that patriotic ardor and single devotion of 
purpose to know only his countrp^ s honor in seeking his own, 
— no brighter star would appear in the noble constellation 
of our dead or living chieftains. But it is when we retreat 
from these more ostensible and imposing considerations, 
the theatre upon which the real power and force of true 
worth displayed itself, and enter into the springs of 
character, the hidden qualities which made the man, 
that we find a claim to regard, and a wealth of excel- 
lence, which shall survive the consideration of greatness 
external, and live and be strong when the lustre of 
courts, and cabinets, and campaigns, shall have faded into 
oblivion. 

I therefore look for the true soldier in the man. The 
greater contains, and creates, the less. What is it that wins 
men, and causes the world to elect its favorites and take its 
benefactors to its heart ? Manliness, true manliness. It is 
this, and not station, that awakens lasting admiration. 
Potentates have gone down from the heights of rank, blazing 



DISCOURSE. 15 

in the lustre thereof, with not a mourner, — followed only 
by execrations. But when a man dies, humanity is mourner. 
Magnanimity and intelligence, liberality and integrity, self- 
forgetfulness in the interest of others, heroic devotion to the 
right, honor, generosity, public spirit, a broad philanthropy, 
an unstinted and unostentatious charity, gentleness, kind- 
ness, guilelessness, sincerity, freedom from all affectation, 
exemption from all cant and pretence, incapability of treach- 
ery, the eternal opposite of littleness, meanness, or cheat, — 
these are the things that grasp the heart of the world and 
constitute power, and live in the reverence and grateful 
ascriptions of men when all pageant is dead. It is because 
we miss these qualities, the sudden veiling of a brightness 
we shall see no more, that such ligllt of tenderness rests on 
our sorrow. Mansfield was a man, the noblest work of God. 
This lamp is bright enough to throw rays over all life, and 
from it alone, whatever rank or station in the world, bor- 
rows illumination. 

From this high source comes the eminent citizen ; the lover 
of law and order, the true patriot, the genuine life-blood of 
the commonwealth. We mourn the loss of one, though not 
often with us, who, in his absence, was more to community 
than the presence of a thousand of some kinds of men. 
Whatever looked to the welfare of the state, anything that 
contemplated the good of his country, that which would pro- 
mote the interests of our Republican civilization, or lend it 
illustration, our eminent citizen was always prompt to appre- 



16 DISCOURSE. 

ciate. He loved the institutions that made the light of our 
land, its colleges, its schools, its churches, its homes, its 
unmonopolized industries, its rising fame in the presence of 
the nations of the earth. He was no politician, he never 
messed with political rivalries. He had his opinions ; he 
believed in Democratic institutions, in the old uncorrupted 
sense of the word, as Washington, and Adams, and Madison, 
and Jefferson believed in them, in the sense we are fighting 
for them now ; and it was a peculiar consistency that always 
stood to his credit, that he illustrated Democratic institutions 
in his character. He loved man, worth, true merit, that 
structure of human society which lifts men up instead of 
degrading them ; and wherever he discovered genuine excel- 
lence, in the hovel or in the palace, he gave it his hand and 
his hearty God-speed. He thought infinitely more of a 
beautiful soul than of beautiful semblance ; he abhorred all 
caste as a relic of barbarism ; and it was for its tendency and 
power to eliminate real worth, and exalt it above all false and 
factitious distinctions, that he loved our popular American 
civilization, and laid down his life in its defence. We honor 
that nobility, that sacrifice. Posterity shall twine its mem- 
ory in garlands when that miserable garb of Barbarism, 
which is flaunting its arrogance in the face of the nation 
to-day, shall have rotted and been buried in the contempt 
of the world. We honor our illustrious dead, as a true 
American citizen. 



DISCOURSE. 17 

But higher than all is the honor we put upon him, because 
he was a christian. The soldier sleeps in glory lit by time ; 
the man is not complete, till he is God-crowned, complete in 
Christ, wanting nothing. Mansfield lived for other worlds : 
he had a life hid, where disaster never comes. He feared 
his God, he honored his Maker ; and his humble purpose 
was, not to forget him. 

He seems to stand before me in no way so impressively, 
as in reverent listening to the holy things of God and eter- 
nity in the sanctuary. He was earnest in these matters. 
This thing about God and glory, immortality and the soul, 
about heaven and hell, the judgment, and the grandeurs of 
the unseen world, was meat and drink to him. His soul was 
aglow here. Substance was what he wanted, the grand 
verities of a living faith, the sublime certitude of God and his 
own immortality. He did not want show, form, semblance, 
pantomime, in these awe inspiring realities. He wanted 
God, he wanted Christ, he wanted pardon, he must have the 
substance of the thing. Religion was a glory to this true 
man, or else it was a contempt. All sanctimony and false 
semblance in this matter he loathed. 

Here we have one secret, the main one doubtless, of that 

cool, calm self possession, for which he was distinguished in 

time of peril. The truth is, he did not fear death. That 

wrought no perturbation in his nerves. When he went to 

the battle field, he simply accepted whatever fortune might 

come to him personally. He would lead the forces to 
3 



18 DISCOURSE. 

mortal engagement with as cool resolution as he would sit 
in a council of war. His thought was, not how he coiild 
escape harm, but how could he stand at his post of duty. 
It was for him as leader, not to foUoiu in the fight, but to be 
foremost. On that fatal morning of Wednesday at Sharps- 
burg, when urged by those wlio knew the value of the man's 
life, to seek, before going into battle, protection beneath the 
breast-plate, his reply was, "No: I take the fortunes of my 
men : my men have none, and I will not wear one." And 
with the hundreds of brave fellows that fell on that day, 
their gallant leader took his lot. The simple truth was, he 
was ready to die. If his country should want his life in that 
hour, he had conceded it long ago. Ali ! lie wore a shield 
that day which no arrows can pierce, behind which he, as a 
soldier, was following a mightier leader, whose battle fields 
and conqueror's crowns are worlds. Many an hour, in 
the loneliness of the night, when the camp was hushed 
and there was no sound save the sentry's tread, his voice 
went up in lowly prayer to his God, remembering that " it 
is not all of life to live, nor all of death to die." 

Here was a power that kept the man up, and will keep 
any man up, from the hardening tendency of war. Every 
one must have observed in Gen. Mansfield, a peculiar ten- 
derness, and gentleness of character and mannner. It was 
in strange contrast with the severe and rigid discipline of 
military life. I think there were higher influences keeping 



DISCOURSE. 19 

Ids soul mellow, not weak, but mighty in a strength more 
than human. 

This tenderness and gentleness was peculiarly noticeable 
in his prayers as they went up from the reverent assembly, 
or the altar of home. It rayed over like tearful light, his 
letters to his children, written from amidst the thunder of 
war ; they were gentle as the breathings of a mother's love. 

The poor felt this : the most squalid child, the barefoot 
urchin in the street, would not be repelled from the warrior, 
but drawn to him by the sunshine of his benevolence and 
humanity. It was the beauty of religion, we think, that so 
shone out through him towards the poor of every grade. 
There are no more sincere mourners in this community than 
they. They had no better friend to lose. Many a life 
around us will be the sadder this coming cold winter, 
because his smile will come no more to light it. 

Said one old true heart on the day of his burial, who her- 
self had served him, as well as been served by him, "I 
must look into that grave. I must see where the good man 
is to rest." And so in spite of the military press, in spite of 
the remonstrances of guard and attendant, the old heart 
had a stronger press in it, and came to the sepulchre, and 
flung the tribute of her tears into the grave, and bemoaned 
him there. 

Said he himself to another, — it was on the occasion of his 
last visit among us, — one who had cared for him in childhood's 
days, "You are old now; do you remember when we 



20 DISCOURSE. 

were children together, and played in the woods, and built 
the fire, and prepared the nuts in the fire we had made ?" 
" yes ! " said the sable lip : " and we'll be doing it again be- 
fore long in another world ; we shall all sit at the same table 
there, there will be no difference there." 

Crowns will rest upon conquerors brows ; the great 
and good shall come to honors and princely sceptres : 
but no brighter jewels will come to Mansfield's crown, 
than the lowly souls who blessed him here, burnished from 
the earthly dross. It may be great to pour from the lap of 
affluence, gold and incense into the palaces of the fortunate ; 
but greater is that nobility of soul which takes the lowly 
and neglected children of earth by the hand, and flings 
sunshine upon their heart, and puts cheer into their pilgrim- 
age towards the better world. 

These are the associations that melt grief into the soul ; 
these are the feelings that embalm the memory of a good 
man in urns more enduring than marble. Because of the 
passing away of such briglitness from the earth, do we be- 
moan the breaking of our Strong Staff, and Beautiful Rod. 

Men are sometimes representative, — in character and quali- 
ties standing for classes. Gen. Mansfield embodied much 
of that sterling worth which made hirn a good type of that 
grand old Puritan stock which God sifted from the chaff 
of England, as the seed of our American civilization. Even 
his presence, with his long flowing beard, silvered less by 



DISCOURSE. 21 

years than by service, that military compactness, and iron 
positiveness beyond price, that noble bearing, — seemed natu- 
rally to be a good form, for our thought, of that rare race of 
men, from whom we proudly have our descent. He loved 
the principles of that renowned ancestry. The memory of the 
Mayflower was fragrant to him. He loved the New England 
which these men and their principles founded ; the social, 
civil, and religious structure of her life, the principles which 
lie at the root of all the nation's manhood. Of their spirit- 
nality, and that internal reliance upon character and God, 
which, though not resultant in perfectness of character, was a 
rare instance of escape from the vices of the times, he was an 
intelligent admirer, as he was a happy example of freedom 
from these defects himself. He hated bigotry, intolerance, 
illiberality, arrogance, in church and in state. He loved 
freedom of thought, and of conscience, and of speech, and 
of men. He felt to the heart's core, the bitter sneers at 
Puritan New England, hurled by the present rebellion, 
the most envenomed and malignant of all the arrows that 
have been shot from that fallen and doomed relic of barbar- 
ism. Men whom New England has reared, miserable apos- 
tates that have defamed their mother, men who have stolen 
their education from her schools and universities, and then 
used it to disparage her and forge daggers for her vitals, all 
this rankling degeneracy and apostate repudiation, our New 
England hero well understood ; and the love he bore for 
his home and the priceless things wi'apped up in Liberty 



22 DISCOURSE. 

and free institutions, nerved his heart, in the fearful conflict, 
and made him willing to defend, by his blood, what was 
purchased by blood. He comes in a line of revolutionary 
lustre. A patriotic ancestry paused not at sacrifices that 
they might secure freedom and the rights of man. In the 
veins of Mansfield flowed the ancient fire. Laws, and 
letters, schools and churches, all that created New England, 
was dear to him, and he left it untarnished by his treachery, 
an inheritance to his children. 

You know in this community, his nobleness here. Not a 
man of fortune — here at home with you only for a brief 
sojourn from time to time ; yet who among you has touched 
more vital cords of influence ? ■ He loved all beautiful 
improvement, — he was not willing to live for himself, or his 
own : he loved the young — he loved to help them — and 
while it was in his heart to devise more liberal things than 
he did for the honor of his city, and plant in your midst 
educational advantages that should make not only your sons 
as strong pillars, but your daughters as polished stones in 
the temple of life, yet where is the owe man that has left a 
nobler monument to the truly noble attributes of his heart, 
than left Gen. Mansfield when he gave you yonder school ?* 
Many a man, with his means a hundred-fold multiplied, has 
made for himself a golden coffin, to be missed or spoken of 

* Allusion is here made to a Ladies' Seininurj/, the biiikling for which was 
erected some five years since, and entirely furnished by the munificence of Gen. 
Mansfield alone. 



DISCOURSE. 23 

never, outside his own family. He who plants seeds of 
beauty and blessedness in mind and heart, reaps immortal 
benedictions. 

There are private charities the world never knows of. 
This is no impertinent generality in what tells of our fellow- 
townsman. Unostentatious as goodness, his delight was to 
do good wherever he could find opportunity. No claim 
upon him was ever repudiated. No empty hand or desolate 
heart was turned with a cold compliment away. He tried 
to make men happy even in each other, — he took special 
delight in making them see each other's good qualities. 
Thus he was saved from evil-speaking. He had no skill in 
mischief. 

So went on the tenor of his life — thus flowed the diversi- 
fied river — silent, but deep ; strong, but beautiful — to the 
sea. 

J3ut these records need not be extended. They are all 
written elsewhere — sacredly written. To us he will speak 
no more. The tongue is silent, the hand is still, the sword 
of the warrior is sheathed, for the Master on high has 
called him. 

Henceforth his name will be stricken from the roll of 
living men, and starred as among the gone. The old 
familiar places in camp and in council shall not see him 
coming. No startling exigence of country shall summon 
him from home or from garrison to vindicate her rights 
and good name. He has gone to swell the roll of the 



24 DISCOURSE. 

illustrious dead — to take his place in history with ancient 
worthies, the martyrs for Liberty already in the archives 
of fame, the Washingtons and Warrens, the Montgomeries 
and Starks, the early heroes in the great battle for man. 
We shall look for him in the old familiar ways — of home, 
and neighbor, and friend, and kindred — but he will tarry ; 
he will not come. The years will not bring him ; the old 
salutations, — they are silent on this side. The greetings will 
be in the new kingdom. 

It is a profound instinct in human nature, which yearns 
for the last sleep to be with dust of kindred. Bury me 
with my fathers, said the dying patriarchs. Send me to my 
kindred, was the parting word of the Christian General. 

And it was well that he found not sepulture at the hand 
of strangers. Faithful hands were commissioned for that. 
They bore him from the field ; loving hearts tenderly cared 
for him as they silently took him on the way ; public bodies 
tendered offices of reverence and respect ; cities claimed 
the right to pay to his memory their tribute of honor. 
But on they bore him, silently, mournfully, guarding their 
sacred trust, till it had been done, even as he commanded. 

Hearts were still in this town that night, in their anguish. 
No morning greetings celebrated the welcome. The Strong 
Staff was broken, — the Beautiful Rod was hid ! The Father, 
the Loving One, the Neighbor, the Friend, the Soldier, the 
Hero of many battles, — slept ! 



DISCOURSE. 25 

We buried him on that bright day. The pageant, the 
concourse, the lights of the commonwealth, words many and 
true, fitly spoken, told of the esteem flung that day upon 
the casket, the respect that enshrined a nation's honored 
son. And still onward we bore him as the sun was sinking, 
as the mortal heavens were fading, and there in the still 
waiting city of the peaceful dead, laid him to his last rest. 
The mournful dirge, the quick, sharp volley over the grave, 
the mourner's tear, and the turning away of the living, told 
that all that was mortal of Joseph K. F. Mansfield was 



no more 



Ah ! a beautiful life — death does not end that ; a true 
life — it is great to build it, it is glorious to leave it as the 
sign that we have been. From beyond the dim mist, from 
behind the alabaster veils, the light still shines timeward. 
The circling years shall bring only transparency to the 
mortal walls, and added brightness to the living flame 
beyond. He who so lives as to be missed when he is gone, 
so frames himself into the necessities of the living that 
still he shall survive in their bereavements and grateful 
homage, fulfills the purpose he was divinely sent to execute, 
and records a grand success among countless failures. 
Pageants shall fade, columns shall crumble, and crowns 
are but dust ; but a beautiful life is a charm immortal, a 
day with no sunset, a melody, a "joy forever." 



One great lesson we should be learning in these solemn 
4 



26 DISCOURSE. 

days. It is the value we ought to set upon those who put 
their life between us and death, and stand as defenders of 
our country. This defence will be necessary so long as unhal- 
lowed passion shall unsheathe the sword against the peaceful 
avocations of men for its own wicked purposes, and until 
wrath and oppression and ambition and revenge shall learn 
submission to the gentle reign of heaven. So long as right 
can be exposed to the assaults of wrong, noble lives must 
be ready to stand for the true. He that appeals to the 
sword, must meet the sword. In peaceful times we do not 
weigh the sacrifices that it cost to procure our blessings ; in 
perilous times we can not esteem too highly the instruments, 
the noble spirits that stand in the place of mortal peril to 
defend and perpetuate them to us. Gold is a paltry thing to 
give men who love life as well as we do, to face the cannon's 
mouth. We should gird them, and flank them, by the holy 
pledges of the heart ; we should honor them, and bless 
them, as the deliverers of our life from the destroyer. The 
heroic men who have braved danger, and turned back the 
foe for our sakes, are deserving of eternal gratitude. We 
may forget those who lavish silver upon us, but not those 
who give for us their blood. We are apt to bear too lightly 
the debt of gratitude we owe to strong arms in this world, 
as well as heads. No paltry pay of pelf can discharge 
that. 

Another suggestion we may not fail to note. The clouds 
are thick round about, the storm is raging, the earth heaves 



DISCOURSE. 27 

beneath us, and the direful days are come. But what is the 
grand key-note to this wail of confusion and blood ? The 
nation is in her anguish, mourning hangs upon all her 
lintels, and whither is all this tending? When shall the 
end be ? 

I see, beyond the smoke, dimly discerned from out of the 
night of the confusion, a glorious form of natioiialUij and 
manhood^ compared with which old historic glories have no 
glory. It is rising, it is struggling forth, it is coming as 
the birth of these mighty woes, and all the future shall bring 
salutation. It is the temple of Liberty, redeemed from her 
dishonor ; it is Man, lifted from the thraldrom of the old 
despotisms, from the spells of barbaric glory, from the badges 
of his history's shame. By all in memory and hope, by the 
tears and blood of the baptism now upon you, be true to the 
fortunes of that better future. 

Our fathers planted a vine and reared a glorious tree of 
freedom. Long have we gathered the rich fruitage thereof, 
and the leaves, even, have been for the healing of the nations. 
But the wild boar from out of the woods is desecrating the 
vineyard ; the vandal is upon the consecrated tree : he lays his 
axe upon its very root, moistened and hallowed by immortal 
blood. By all that is sacred, by all the woes that have rent 
your national heart, over the fallen forms of your mai'tyr 
heroes, put the sacrament to your lips and vow, that no life 
shall be held dear, till every star and stripe that floats on 
your national ensign, shall be avenged of the polluting insult 



28 DISCOURSE. 

that has been flung upon its sacred folds. Ellsworth, and 
Lyon, and Baker, and Reno, bending from their upper 
heights, call you to this. 

Ye who now fling the cypress tribute upon the grave of 
your most honored son, while the iron of the agony is fresh 
in your soul, raise the eye and lift the hand to the high 
heavens and say — As I live and He liveth, this blood shall 
BE INURNED IN AVENGING HONORS. Take the VOW, sumiiion 
the hosts, and on the banners of their marshalled valor 
inscribe the name " MA.NSFIELD," and though dead, bid 
him lead you to victory still. 

He is embalmed in your tears and veneration. Let it 
not be among the least of the monuments you erect to 
his memory, that you are true to the cause he conse- 
crated with his death. 

Thou to whom he lifted his prayer, whose wisdom and 
guidance he invoked in this hour of his nation's calamity, 
vouchsafe that guidance, and light the cloud with fire, that 
out of the night and storm and tread of carnage, the note 
of victory may be heard— anon. 



BIOGRAPHIC NOTE. 



The design of the foregoing discourse did not contemplate minute 
historical recital in the delivery ; consequently such matter was but 
slightly touched upon. 

It is proper, however, that the following sketch should be added 
here. 

The ancestry of Gen. Mansfield were of English extraction. They 
appear among the most distinguished names in the early settlement 
and history of the Colonies. The subject of this sketch, Joseph 
King Fenno Mansfield, was the son of Mary and Henry Stephen 
Mansfield, born in New Haven, Ct., Dec. 22, 1803. In 1817, he 
entered the Military Academy at West Point, and graduated with 
high honors in 1822, being second in his class. Of his classmates, 
only two remain in the service at the present time, viz : George 
Wright, Colonel of the Ninth Regular Infantry and Brigadier Gen- 
eral of Volunteers, and David H. Vinton, Lieutenant-Colonel and 
Deputy Quartermaster-General. 

In accordance with regulations governing the appointment of cadets 
to the corps of Engineers, Cadet Mansfield was, on the 1st of July, 
1822, appointed Brevet Second Lieutenant of Engineers. Thus he 
continued for nearly ten years, his commission as First Lieutenant 
bearing date March, 1832. 



80 B I G R A P H I C N T E . 

In July, 1838, he was promoted to the rank of Captain, and on the 
outbreak of the Mexican War, was intrusted with the responsible post 
of Chief Engineer of the army commanded by Major-General Taylor, 
during the years 1846 and 1847. In the defence of Fort Brown, 
which was attacked on the 3d of May, and heroically defended until 
the 9th, Capt. Mansfield was particularly distinguished, and received 
the brevet of Major for his services. 

In the three days' conflict at Monterey, 21st, 22d and 23d of Sept., 
1846, Major Mansfield again distinguished himself, and was breveted 
Lieutenant-Colonel for gallant and meritorious conduct. At the 
storming of Monterey he was severely wounded, but in five months 
after, Fel)., 1847, he was again at his post, being breveted Colonel 
for gallant services in the battle of Buena Vista, Feb. 23, 1847. 

In 1851, Col. Mansfield Avas still Captain in the corps of Engi- 
neers, Jiis name being third on the list. At that time the following 
distinguished officers were his associates in the Engineers : Generals 
H. W. Halleck, G. B. McClellan, Horatio E. Wright, G. W. CuUum, 
W. S. Rosencrans, John Newton, G. Foster, H. W. Benham, I. G. 
Barnard, Charles E. Blunt, Quincy A. Gilmore, and Quartermaster- 
General Meigs. The Rebel Generals, Robert E. Lee, Peter G. T. 
Beauregard, and Charles S. SteAvart, were also officers in this corps at 
the same time. 

On the resignation of Inspector-General George A. McCall, now 
Brigadier- General of Volunteers, Col. Mansfield was selected. May 
28, 1853, to fill the important post of Inspector-General, with the full 
rank of Colonel, and thereupon resigned his rank as Captain of Engi- 
neers. He continued to perform the duties of Inspector- General of 
the United States army until May 14, 1861, at which date he was 
renominated by the President for one of the new Brigadier-General- 
ships in the regular army, then just created by Congress. 

During the present war. Gen. Mansfield has been chiefly with the 
army of the Potomac, and though in the fifty-ninth year of his age, 



B I G R A P H I C N O T P: . 81 

has borne the fatigue and exposure incident to activ'e service, even 
better than many of half his years. 

Gen. Mansfield was a man of fine appearance. As a soldier he 
was brave and fearless, and a strict disciplinarian. He Avas one of 
the most accomplished of our generals, and scientific of our engineers. 
His loss is a severe calamity to the country at the present time. His 
good name few can rival. 



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